I remembered last spring the dreary wait for our train at Gare d’Austerlitz so decided to find something to see near our hotel. I didn’t think either of us would want to spend the morning in the natural history museum or the zoo in Jardin des Plantes but the Grand Serres (greenhouses) sounded interesting. I remembered being very impressed with the beautiful ones at Kew. Luckily our hotel had free baggage storage in a locked room in the basement and were happy to keep our cases until we needed them.

Outside it was much warmer than the two previous mornings so Mr McGregor had to divest himself of his quilted jacket which I stuffed into his backpack despite his protests that it wouldn’t fit…it did!

For the last time this trip we turned left out of the hotel but not to find the bus stop but to turn left again into the Jardin des Plantes.

The spring flowers were beautiful and it was strange to see such low displays after the tall abundance last September when we were passing through on our way home from Dublin.

We made our way to the Serres passing joggers, walkers and a group of children from a maternelle all holding onto a long strap with one hand with a teacher in charge at each end! To the sound of oriental music a group did their morning synchronised tai chi. It reminded me of the parks in Beijing.

The Grand Serres are imposing and a sort of austere art deco design with wide stone steps without a handrail. We notice things like that these days! Inside it was hot and damp as might be expected of a tropical hothouse and we followed a wooden boardwalk twisting between the greenery, some of which was tall enough to reach the roof.

At the far end large stepping stones took you across to the far side of the display, another unforeseen challenge for himself. A handrail was available, thank goodness. Past a small fish pond and a cocoa plant amongst many others and then into the desert zone which was uncomfortably hot with the sun beating down on it. We didn’t hang about in that part.

Up the short staircase and into the New Caledonia display and we were almost done. Neither of us had the desire or energy to climb to the first floor for the history of plants so we left and looked for a bench on which to recover.

It seems churlish to criticise but we were both unimpressed with Les Grand Serres but perhaps our expectations were too high. We sat enjoying the fresh air sitting in the shade near a tall Gingko tree, a very ancient species until we began to feel a bit chilly. After consulting Google maps we moved off towards Porte Monge.

Near the Porte Monge exit there was an enormous common plane tree. I tried to take a photo of himself and tree but, rather like taking one of me and the facade of Notre Dame, I couldn’t get both of them in…so I took two!

The reason for leaving the Jardin by this gate was because it was the nearest to the Grand Mosque of Paris. I had noticed it on Google maps and upon investigating, as I do, it seemed an interesting place to visit. It wasn’t far to walk, thank goodness. The activity of the last few days was catching up with us both.

Despite it being Ramadan visitors were still welcome to enter and follow a defined route through the mosque and its tranquil garden.

The prayer room wasn’t open to visitors but it was possible to see into the large carpeted space.

The garden was cool and calm, a complete contrast to the hothouses we had just visited.

We strolled slowly and I took lots of photos of the intricate tile patterns everywhere.

The lady in the ticket office had told me the mosque cafe was outside and to the left. Ready for some coffee we walked to the left, and then left again and finally found the cafe tucked into a corner…on the left. It would have been appropriate to have mint tea but we stuck to coffees although my mouth watered at the pictures of the many pastries; baklava cigars, mmmm.

Once more we sat enjoying our shady corner until a chilly little breeze found us. We took a different route back towards the hotel along a typically picturesque Paris street full of different styles and eras of buildings..

Luggage collected we debated what to do about lunch. Finally we bought some filled baguettes to ‘eat on the train’ and then stopped at one of the several cafes we had eaten at over the last three evenings for a last cold beer and glass of white.

Of course, it didn’t stop at drinks. We ended up sharing a pizza and watching the world go by. It’s a pretty eclectic world near a Paris station! Then we really did have to go and catch our train.